


Raised by Wolves

by stars-and-wolves (stars_and_wolves)



Series: Wolfstar Oneshots [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Domestic Fluff, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Co-Parents to Lovers, Friends to Lovers, Get Together, Happy Ending, M/M, Minor Dumbledore bashing, Minor Snape bashing, No Miscommunication, OC lesbian couple, Raising Harry Potter, Wolfstar raise harry, angst if you squint, domestic wolfstar, first wizarding war (past), happy childhood au, harry adores his dog and wolf dads, pre-Hogwarts (goldren-trio era), sirius black and remus lupin raise harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:27:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28162395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stars_and_wolves/pseuds/stars-and-wolves
Summary: “... Moony howled at the full moon as it rose over the trees. Padfoot and Prongs were already falling asleep in the magical forest after a long day of chasing rabbits and befriending the new unicorns.”Sirius Black smiled as healmostgracefully exited the fireplace in the small house he shared with his two favourite people in the world. It was a Wednesday evening, and Remus’s deep voice was drifting from Harry’s bedroom, even though he was talking more softly than usual.***Harry is being raised by Sirius and Remus and they all love each other and they’re all happy
Relationships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Series: Wolfstar Oneshots [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1988635
Comments: 8
Kudos: 135
Collections: The Wolfstar Secret Snowflake Exchange 2020





	Raised by Wolves

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jim-is-spocks-thyla (tumblr)](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=jim-is-spocks-thyla+%28tumblr%29).



> This is my Wolfstar Secret Snowflake gift for [jim-is-spocks-thyla](%E2%80%9Djim-is-spocks-thyla.tumblr.com%E2%80%9D) who asked for “ **fluff and happiness** ” and “ **raising harry** ”. I added in some getting together because I’m suuuch a sucker for these two realising they love each other
> 
> I really hope you enjoy it! Happy Holidays <3

“... Moony howled at the full moon as it rose over the trees. Padfoot and Prongs were already falling asleep in the magical forest after a long day of chasing rabbits and befriending the new unicorns.”

Sirius Black smiled as he _almost_ gracefully exited the fireplace in the small house he shared with his two favourite people in the world. It was a Wednesday evening, and Remus’s deep voice was drifting from Harry’s bedroom, even though he was talking more softly than usual.

“And helping the ravens stay safe from the evil spiders, Dad.”

Sirius’s heart twinged a little, the way it always did, even after all these years, when six-year-old Harry called Remus ‘Dad’. It didn’t hurt so much when Harry called him 'Papa'. Harry had done that _Before_ , when he was just learning to talk and hadn’t got the hang of ‘Padfoot’ yet. Harry didn't know who Padfoot was anymore — he had no idea that the magical woodland best friends who starred in his bedtime stories every night were based on his father and his two guardians.

It was easier this way, most of the time — the condition that Dumbledore had them swear to when he finally begrudgingly let them keep Harry was that, even if they didn’t keep the Wizarding world hidden from Harry, Harry must be kept secret from them. And so, Harry White, his father Simon and uncle, on his mother’s side, John Grimm were born. Harry had learnt not to protest when a hat was pulled down over his forehead, a knitted bobble hat in winter and a baseball cap in summer, and Sirius and Remus flitted around him charming his nose longer, his eyes browner, his cheeks chubbier, while also making themselves as indistinguishable as possible from their usual selves. Harry understood that this was the price he had to pay to go to parts of Wizarding London, like Diagon Alley, and Harry absolutely loved Diagon Alley.

“Yes, of course,” Remus continued, voice thick with fondness. “How could I forget about the battle for Ravenwood against the creepy crawly spiders?”

Harry’s delighted shriek filled the house for a moment like a bolt of lightning flashing across the sky. Sirius grinned as he dusted a bit of ash off his trousers. Remus had, at the beginning of their journey into parenthood, tried to encourage Sirius to treat Harry’s bedtime as ‘calm time’. But now Remus was the one who would start tickling Harry or blowing raspberries into his skin right before lights out whenever he was on story duty.

The laughter died down, Harry’s cries devolving into giggles, devolving into huffs of breath that Sirius could barely hear. He found himself approaching Harry’s bedroom.

“Are you ready to go to sleep, fawn?” Sirius was at the door, had a hand on the handle, but he paused, wanting to experience his odd little family from the outside for just a few seconds longer.

“Not yet,” Harry said, in that stubborn tone that he’d perfected in the past year or so, usually accompanied by a crinkling of his brow that made him look so like Lily it made Sirius’s heart melt. “I need my kisses.”

There was the telltale loud wet smack of lips on skin, once, twice, and that set Harry off giggling again.

“All better?”

A pause. “Will you tell papa to give me his kiss when he comes home? I’ll stay awake until he does.” Harry’s record for staying awake waiting for a bedtime kiss was one of the full moon nights about two years ago. Those were always difficult for Sirius, longing to be out with Moony to keep him safe from himself, while also wishing he could explain to Harry where Remus was and that, of _course_ , he was coming back. That Remus would always come back. Harry had lasted exactly nineteen minutes that night before Sirius heard his soft snuffly snores drift out of his bedroom.

Sirius opened the bedroom door.

“Papa,” Harry looked pleased with himself, almost as if he’d summoned Sirius himself. Sirius’s heart warmed at the sight of Harry bundled up in his train-themed duvet (trains were Harry’s big thing at the moment — he had train-themed blankets and pyjamas and there were so many toy trains strewn all over the floor of every room in the house, even the bathroom, that it was a wonder none of them had been seriously injured tripping over one). Remus was lying beside him on the bed, on top of the duvet, already in his pyjamas, a steaming mug of tea on Harry’s bedside table. The room was fairly small, but Harry didn’t spend much time there during the day — he far preferred playing in the sitting room or kitchen, wherever Sirius or Remus were.

“Hi, love. Did you have a good day with Dad?” Sirius was proud of himself for barely tripping over the word anymore. He was certain that Harry never noticed. If Remus did, he never mentioned it.

Harry’s face split into a grin and he nodded so hard that the bed shook. “We went to the park and fed the ducks and we saw a big grey bird called a _renon_.”

Remus ruffled Harry’s hair, and yet it almost looked less messy when he took his hand away. “A heron, Harry.”

“A heron,” Harry parroted with a firm nod. “And then we came home and I helped make dinner!”

“You did? I’m sure it’s delicious then. I can’t wait to have some.”

Remus stood up to allow Sirius to take his place by Harry’s head for his goodnight kiss. Sirius perched on the edge of the mattress and pressed his lips to Harry’s forehead, the opposite side to that odd scar that came down almost to his eye. He pulled away an inch and pressed his lips to the top of Harry’s head this time, into his tangle of black hair, inhaling deeply. Ever since he’d first turned into an Animagus, Sirius’s sense of smell was sharper than most people’s, and now he let Harry’s soft familiar scent fill his lungs and spread warmth to the tips of his fingers and toes.

“Goodnight, fawn,” Sirius whispered into Harry’s hair. “We’ll see you in the morning. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Remus added softly, the corner of his lips twisted up as he watched the scene. “Sweet dreams, Harry.”

Sirius pressed one final kiss to the top of Harry’s head and stood up. Remus left the room before him and Sirius followed him out. At the door, he turned to watch Harry snuggled down under the covers with his deer teddy clasped tightly to his chest. Sirius flicked the muggle light switch by the door and the room was bathed in near darkness. He pulled the door closed behind him and joined Remus in the kitchen.

There was a pot on the stove and the whole kitchen smelled vaguely of chilli and garlic. Sirius served himself a heaping portion of Chilli con Carne with brown rice that had been kept piping hot with a charm. He sat down at their poky kitchen table across from Remus who was drinking his tea and watching him silently.

“I know. I’m home later than I wanted to be.”

Remus sighed into his mug. “I’m glad you sent a Patronus letting me know this time.” There wasn’t a bite of aggression in his tone, the way Sirius might have expected if someone else had said it. He remembered very clearly the first time he’d stayed late at work. He’d come home from a horrifyingly busy day, two hours after his usual time, to find Remus in a panic, in the middle of packing a bag for himself with Harry’s already by the fireplace. He’d been terrified that they’d been found and ready to drop everything to go even deeper into hiding with Harry. Sirius had assured a hyperventilating Remus that everything was _fine_ and was going to be fine. He’d put a concerned but sleepy Harry to bed and then had joined Remus in his bed, something they hadn’t done since Hogwarts, and held him while he cried himself to sleep.

Sirius had come home as early as he could get away with for the next month or so, until the initial aftermath had calmed. But from then on, he always sent word to Remus if he expected to be even fifteen minutes late.

“What were you working on?” Again, had Remus been anyone else, this would have felt like a jab. Even James, Sirius knew, would have made it sound like ‘ _what were you working on that was more important than me or Harry?_ ’, but not Remus. Remus always wanted to know how Sirius’s work was going and would listen intently, even if Sirius talked for hours.

“Transcriptions, mostly. McGonagall wants to make sure I’ve done ‘enough research’,” Here, Sirius attempted a very convincing McGonagall impression (and succeeded, if he did say so himself). “Before we move on to living conjurations.”

After James’s death, after the war, Sirius had felt no great pull to rejoin his Auror training. He had spent the next four years working in Florean’s in Diagon Alley, disguised as Simon White, of course, while supporting their odd little family with the money left to him by Uncle Alphard. The work had been tiring and boring but he’d been able to sneak chocolate ice cream home pretty often, so it kept Remus happy at least. But Sirius had wanted to find a career before the money ran out or he went insane from smiling at entitled mothers of snot-nosed children.

Then, about five months ago, Remus had brought home a book on complex transfigurations that he and Harry had found in the back corner of Flourish and Blotts, covered in dust. Sirius’s love for transfiguration was rekindled instantly as he devoured the four hundred page tome in under a week. He had written to McGonagall asking her how he could go about following her footsteps and becoming a Transfiguration Master and she had offered him an apprenticeship with her during the school summer holidays. They were two months into the three-month stint and Sirius was loving every minute of it. McGonagall seemed happy with his progress and had started writing to other Transfigurations Masters that she knew who might be willing to mentor him once the Hogwarts term started up again.

Sometimes, Sirius felt bad about being excited about his new career, felt bad about gushing about it to Moony who was at home with Harry all day and, as a werewolf, had no career prospects at all.

“I love it, you know, being with him.” Sirius was sometimes convinced that Remus was a Legilimens, or maybe Sirius just had a very expressive face and Remus had just learnt how to read him after living together for fourteen years (seven at Hogwarts, two when Sirius convinced Remus that he’d go insane in Alphard’s flat without a roommate to prevent Remus’s stupid pride leading him to homelessness, and coming up to five in their little rural cottage with Harry).

Sirius looked up, examining Remus’s face for any sort of lie or even a half-truth.

Remus smiled and a slight shrug. “I really do. He’s pretty independent so he’ll play on his own for an hour or more and I can get some reading done.” Here, Remus gestured vaguely at the books littered on every available surface and poking out of every available nook or cranny in the kitchen. When they’d first moved in, Sirius had made an ‘only cookbooks in the kitchen’ rule which had lasted all of two weeks. Their entire home was full to the brim with books that either Sirius or Remus were _planning to read_. “Sometimes he even insists that I read out loud from my ‘boring books’ while he plays. Like he just likes the sound of my voice while he does his own thing.

“I love playing with him. He has such a wonderful imagination. And that artistic flair.” Sirius snorted. Every square inch of their fridge and most of the kitchen walls were covered in Harry’s art, and Sirius came home to new pictures almost every day. It was the best art that any six-year-old could do, Sirius and Remus both agreed on that. Sometimes it hit him how bizarre he’d thought Andromeda was for hanging up Dora’s art when she was Harry’s age and how different his entire world had become in such a short space of time.

“I love homeschooling him,” Remus continued, clearly thinking (and sort of right) that Sirius needed more convincing. “He’s bright and eager to learn.” He sighed and Sirius looked at him again, finally seeing that hint of sadness he’d been expecting the whole time. “I wanted to be a teacher. Before I realised that I could never have a normal life, that is. When the four of us were in school and you three talked about what you wanted to be, I never mentioned it. I used to tell myself that I was scared that you’d all laugh at me for having such notions.”

Sirius opened his mouth to protest but Remus silenced him with a look. “I know. You wouldn’t. But telling myself that you would was easier than the other possibility. That you’d go full Sirius-and-James and start treating it like it was bound to happen. I was scared I’d start to believe you. No one would let me around their children, Sirius. Even muggles turn their children away from my scars. Teaching Harry is more than enough for me.”

“And when he goes to Hogwarts?”

Remus shrugged.

“I’ll probably be a transfiguration master by then, you know,” Sirius said, trying not to sound like he was bragging. “You were always aces at Defence, we could both —”

“Sirius, you’re doing it again.” Remus was clearly trying to sound exasperated but the left corner of his mouth had quirked up in Sirius’s favourite ‘fond Moony’ smile.

“I just can’t imagine being away from him for ten months of the year, and I’m not even with him most of the time now.”

“We have five more years of him all to ourselves, Pads.”

“It doesn’t feel like enough.”

“No, it doesn’t.” Remus finished his tea and stretched in his seat. “I’m going to bed. I’ll see you before you leave tomorrow?”

“Of course, the fawn would never forgive me if I missed Family Breakfast.”

“That’s a lie. He’d forgive you for just about anything.”

Remus cleaned his mug with a flick of his wand and placed it back in the cupboard. It took him a moment to find a place for it in among the dozens of other mugs and the random books that had made their way in there. He smiled at Sirius and left the kitchen.

Sirius heard his bedroom door close and finished his meal in silence.

*******

The next month was much the same as the two preceding it. The three boys had breakfast together every morning, Harry would clear the table for morning lessons while Remus did the dishes and Sirius planted kisses on both foreheads before Flooing to Hogwarts for a day of fascinating but exhausting work set by McGonagall.

She had found him a Master willing to take him on — a witch named Clara Thomas whose Cardiff home was, thankfully, connected to the Floo. Sirius had met her for a tea a few times since she’d agreed to mentor him, and he already adored her.

She was quick-witted and made a mean cup of tea. She was bottle blond, had admitted to Sirius that, even though she was only in her early forties, she was already mostly grey. She lived in a modest house on the outskirts of Cardiff with her muggle life-partner, Norma, and their six cats. Sirius hadn’t considered himself a great fan of cats until Flora, a small tabby, the youngest of the six, had sat herself down on his lap within five minutes of him first entering the house. Remus and Harry had come along for tea too once or twice, and Clara and Norma had doted on Harry and wouldn’t let them leave until they promised to bring him again.

It was one such afternoon, which had started like any other, the two of them alone in the house, chatting about Transfiguration, the cats, the weather, when Clara shook Sirius’s world to its core.

“Norma and I were married in a little chapel on the coast of Skye, you know. Her family wouldn’t come, of course, our sort of thing isn’t looked at quite so fondly out there in the muggle world. You and Remus should look into it when you decide to tie the knot. I can give you their Floo address if you’d like.”

Sirius inhaled the tea he’d been drinking and coughed so much that Flora and her brother Max (both lazing on Sirius’s lap) fled. Flora hissed in disgust as she scuttled out of the room and probably upstairs to hide under a bed. Sirius got up and staggered over to the sink and began coughing again in earnest.

Once he could breathe again, face hot and eyes wet, he looked out the window instead of looking back at Clara.

“I’m sorry, love, I didn’t mean to startle you. Have you boys not even thought about it? You have your darling lad, now, so you probably should do something, you know.”

Sirius’s eyes fell closed. Not thought about it? Seven years ago, it had been all he’d thought about. When they were nineteen and living together in that garishly decorated apartment. They’d done everything together — Remus never cooked unless Sirius was sitting on one of the counters, loudly criticising his every move with a wide grin on his young face; they’d curl up in the evenings under one of their duvets and watch movies on Remus’s tellybox together. By the end, they even read together, Sirius reading aloud from a book of Remus’s choice, his head in Remus’s lap, Remus’s fingers in his hair. They’d been so close to… something, and then everything vanished in the blink of an eye.

He forced himself off memory lane and back to the present. “You’re right, Clara.”

She laughed, bright and cheery enough to drive off rainclouds. “As my student, you’re going to get very used to saying those words.” And the conversation moved on.

But Sirius’s mind kept whirring. Clara’s comment had unlocked everything that he’d buried deep inside himself five years ago. After tea was over, he sent a Patronus to Remus saying that he’d be home in an hour and a half and apparated from Clara’s dining room to a stony beach in Scotland, the most deserted place he could picture on short notice.

He didn’t let himself think about 1981. Ever. There was nothing there but things to regret, to long to fix. Some minor, some bad enough. Some life-shatteringly awful.

The early months of 1981 saw Remus being called on more and more missions that he wasn’t allowed to talk about. Sirius wouldn’t have thought anything of it, really — he was being sent on plenty of his own secret missions for the Order — until Peter started stopping over for tea while Remus was away. Looking back, Sirius wanted to punch his past self in the face for ever listening to the rat. Peter would innocently ask after Remus, sigh when Sirius told him what little he knew, and look at Sirius like he was the wife of a man whose cheating was obvious to everyone but her. Then the whisperings started. Peter would tell him what Voldemort’s werewolf policies were and then would later get Remus drunk and ranting about how unfair the treatment of werewolves was in the Wizarding world. He’d ask Sirius when was the last time he and Moony had had one of those ‘heart-to-hearts’ they were famous for in Hogwarts — where the two would steal an entire Sunday every month or so to walk on the outskirts of the Forest and talk about muggle philosophy, schoolwork, pranks, or nothing at all. Now, Sirius wondered if Wormtail had ever followed them, if he’d already changed before the end of their seventh year, if he’d spent their last good year as the Marauders gathering information he could later use against them.

It was cheap and flimsy manipulation and Sirius could make up excuses all he wanted but he would never forgive himself for falling for it.

By October 1981, they’d been living together in stony silence, more like strangers sharing a reluctantly sharing a space than best friends of the cusp of something more. On Halloween night, Sirius had been busy on Order business but Lily’s frantic mirror call sent him flying (literally — he’d been too panicked to apparate) to Godric’s Hollow. He’d found James and Lily, limbs stiff and eyes staring, looks of fear etched on faces that would never grow old. He hadn’t found Harry or any sign of Voldemort. All thoughts of hunting down Peter (because of _course_ it had been Peter. Sirius wanted to cry. How could he have _ever_ doubted Moony’s love for their friends?) vanished from his mind as he became more and more frantic in his search for Harry. The baby seemed to have disappeared without a trace.

The next two weeks had been agonising. Sirius had been arrested at Godric’s Hollow but had screamed for Veritaserum until his throat grew hoarse. Six days into his prison stay, Alastor Moody slammed his cell door open and set a vial of clear potion in front of him. Sirius had drunk it like a man possessed and the truth poured out of him for what felt like hours. They had let him go that night. He’d returned to the flat he’d shared with Moony, an apology on the tip of his tongue, but Remus’s bed hadn’t been slept in in days. His pillow had still smelled like him — Sirius’s throat tightened at the memory of transforming into Padfoot, so that smell could permeate his very bones, and sleeping with his head on that pillow. Over the next seven days, he had barely moved except to eat and drink the bare minimum. He’d lost Harry and he’d been sure Remus thought he was a murderer — news of his arrest had been on the front page of the Prophet, but word of his release had been tacked at the end of page seven, in barely legible text.

On the fourteenth day after the deaths of two of Sirius’s favourite people in the world, Moony came home with Harry on his hip. Harry was bawling his little heart out and Remus looked like he hadn’t slept in days and Sirius had never been so happy to see any two people more in his entire life.

Dumbledore had found them within hours and, after a screaming match that Harry enthusiastically participated in, he’d agreed to let Sirius and Remus keep him “for the time being”. He’d found them their current cottage in Kent and warded it to the nines.

Things had been difficult at the start — neither of them had ever really taken care of a baby before, besides Sirius occasionally babysitting Andromeda’s little one before he got too swept in the war to answer her letters. After the two hours it took to get a screaming Harry to bed every night, they’d sit at opposite ends of the living room, looking anywhere but at each other. Remus had nothing to apologise for and Sirius had so much that he hadn’t known where to start.

He’d started writing it all down, everything he wished he hadn’t done, every time that Remus had deserved better from him (which was a lot, as he’d mentioned several times), everything he’d wished he could say. _Almost_ everything he wished he could say — it wasn’t appropriate to confess one’s love for one’s best friend in the same paragraph as one apologised for thinking they wanted to murder one’s best friends and godson.

On a frosty morning in mid-December, Sirius plucked Harry from Remus’s lap and gave him nineteen pages of heartfelt scrawl. Two hours later, Sirius was yanked roughly up off the floor where he’d been playing with Harry, and pulled into the tightest, most desperate hug he’d ever received. Remus was shaking with an effort not to cry which made Sirius cry, which made Remus cry for real, which made Harry cry, just to be part of what was going on.

Five minutes after midnight on the first day of 1982, while the two stood outside watching the fireworks, Remus smiled at him for the first time in months, and the worst year of Sirius’s life finally ended.

It took months to get close to where they’d been before, and Sirius had known it would never be the same. He’d never again be the only person who had never doubted Moony. They’d never get tipsy and almost kiss in their kitchen now that they had a toddler running around. They’d never stumble home from the pub together, arm in arm or sometimes hand in hand, laughing about a story that James or Lily or even Peter had told them.

Sirius watched the waves crashing over one particularly large rock on the beach. His friendship with Remus hadn’t crumbled as he’d feared but had been reborn in the ashes of 1981, stronger than ever. They’d both changed, in ways they liked and in ways they hated. They’d grown closer in ways they couldn’t have imagined. At some point, Sirius had stopped thinking of Harry as just James and Lily’s son and started to think of him as his and Remus’s too, in their own way.

There were a million things that Sirius could have wasted his life wishing he could change, but this path wasn’t so bad, really. He’d taught himself to focus on things he could change in the present and things he could change for the future.

In the month since he’d made what Remus probably assumed was a throwaway comment about them both teaching at Hogwarts, Sirius had done a lot of thinking. He’d contacted Dumbledore, who was always on the lookout for more Defence teachers, reminding him that Remus had already spent seven years in Hogwarts and had never hurt anyone but himself. Dumbledore invited him to his office and didn’t laugh in his face at the notion. It would probably take a few years to make everything safe for a werewolf at Hogwarts again, not to mention that getting through ministry paperwork systems without sucking up to several of the right people at the right time was an exhausting and lengthy process.

But time was something they had a fair amount of. Sirius had three or four years of study ahead of him, Harry wasn’t bound for Hogwarts until a year or two after that, and Sirius didn’t want Remus to go without him — them. Them. Sirius had, in the past few weeks, given a fair amount of thought to being a professor at Hogwarts. He hadn’t spent time with teenagers since he had been one himself, and the thought of going back to Hogwarts without James did make him want to die, just a little. But teaching would be a way of applying his studies to something worthwhile while letting him stay as close to Remus and Harry as possible.

Sirius Black, Remus Lupin and Harry Potter would all be going to Hogwarts in 1991. If there was a better solution, Sirius hadn’t thought of it (which meant there probably wasn’t one).

Unbidden, a memory of Remus and Harry curled up on the sofa, Remus gently helping Harry sound out words as his tiny chubby finger slide across the page of the colourful muggle children’s book, bubbled up to the surface of Sirius’s mind and he felt a sharp stab of love and longing all at once. He stood up and glanced around for muggles before he turned on the spot, picturing home. He needed to see his boys.

*******

His boys were playing with Harry’s train set on the floor of the living room when Sirius arrived in the door. Remus looked up at him, frowned, planted a kiss on Harry’s head and walked into the kitchen, a nod of his head indicating that Sirius should follow. He closed the door over, leaving just a crack so they could hear if Harry yelled for them, and immediately went to fill the kettle. Sirius sat down heavily at the kitchen table.

The silence that fell over them wasn’t uncomfortable — silences with Moony never were — but Sirius could see the tension in Remus’s shoulders as he poured the steaming water into two mugs. He set the mugs down on the table, retrieved the sugar for Sirius and the milk for himself and sat in the seat facing Sirius.

“Talk to me.” Concern with just a note of fear. Sirius wondered how awful he must look to shake Remus like this — he’d been running his hands through his hair a lot while lost in thought and maybe he’d cried and hadn’t noticed.

“Clara,” Sirius began cautiously. One of the promises he’d made to Moony in that letter five years ago was that there would be no more secrets between them (except that of the gift variety, which is why the Hogwarts plan would be kept under wraps until there was something to report). “Clara recommended the chapel where she married Norma to me.” A deep breath. “For when we get married.”

Remus’s mouth tightened and he immediately looked down at his mug. “Does her thinking we’re together upset you?” His voice was too neutral, his face too blank.

“No, Rem, of course not. I...” Another deep breath. Then another. The knot in his stomach wasn’t going away. “I just hadn’t thought about it in so long.”

Remus’s eyes snapped to his. “You thought about it?”

“Didn’t you?” Oh Merlin, oh fuck, what if he’d been wrong about their whole will-they-won’t-they thing in that flat after school? “I mean, didn’t we almost...?” He left the question hanging there, not sure how to ask it without putting his entire heart on the line.

Remus looked away from him again. “I didn’t think you really felt that way about me,” He admitted to his mug. “I thought I was just handy and you were just bored so you flirted a little. Then there was... You Know. But we’ve been living here together for so long and things are good, aren’t they, really actually good? And you never mentioned it so I thought maybe it had all been one-sided.”

“It wasn’t.” Sirius was watching Remus’s face, not sure if he wanted him to look up or not, not sure if he was brave enough to meet those amber eyes straight on. “I didn’t let myself think like that, not after what I did to you, to James and Lily. I ruined everything else, I thought I’d ruined my chances with you too. And I didn’t want to risk our friendship, not with Harry to look after.”

“What changed?”

“I’ve done more things that I regret than most people do in a lifetime, Moons. I pushed them down for so long instead of dealing with it, probably because I think I don’t deserve to _not_ regret them. But you, oh Remus, it just hit me that I couldn’t handle you being another regret. I understand that things have changed for you, I don’t blame you. But I... I do love you.” His heart was in his throat, he could feel its pulse constricting his breathing, but, at the same time, he felt like a weight had been lifted. He’d never said it before, out loud. The taste of the word on his tongue made his toes curl. He tried it out again. “I am in _love_ with you, Remus Lupin.”

Remus looked up from his mug and met his eyes. From across the table, Sirius could see the tears threatening to spill over. “Th —” Remus’s voice came out somehow both raspy and squeaky so he cleared his throat and tried again, a delicious blush creeping up his neck as he watched Sirius watch him. “Things haven’t changed for me.”

“They haven’t?”

Remus shook his head, a single tear spilling over as the corners of his mouth twisted upwards. “I’ve been in love with you since we were sixteen. Watching you grow into yourself in the last few years, watching you enter fatherhood, follow a career path, take care of me and Harry... I know you see yourself as a collection of terrible things, some that you did and some that you blame yourself for, but I don’t see you like that. You’re a beacon of light in the darkness, Sirius. How was I ever supposed to stop loving you?” Remus leaned forwards and brushed his calloused thumb across Sirius’s cheek and Sirius frowned when it came away wet. Was he crying? He wiped at his eyes and stood up, pulling Remus up out of his chair and into a hug.

They’d hugged plenty in the past, even a few times in the past few years, but this was different. Sirius let himself feel every point of contact between his body and Remus’s, Remus’s nose just under his ear, his breaths quick and warm on his neck. It could have been under a minute or a quarter of an hour that passed before either of them moved, and even then, Remus only pulled away enough to tilt his head up and press his lips to where Sirius’s jaw met his ear. Sirius swallowed hard and blushed at Remus’s little huff of laughter against his skin, knowing he’d been found out. Lips brushed down his jaw and he silently thanked Merlin that he’d shaved so thoroughly this morning. Just as he felt the ghost of breath on his lips, just as he was about to lean down and finally, _finally_ taste Remus Lupin’s darling mouth —

“Dad?”

“ _Fuck_.” Remus jumped out of his skin, cursing almost under his breath, and it would have been funny if Sirius’s reaction hadn’t been much the same. He rested his forehead on Sirius’s shoulder as if he was as reluctant as Sirius himself to pull away. Harry hadn’t sounded hurt or particularly distressed, so they took a moment, breathing in and out in harmony in the quiet of their tiny kitchen.

“Daaaad!” Came that insistent little voice again, louder.

“I can check on him if you want,” Sirius whispered. Neither of them had spoken at a normal volume since they’d entered the kitchen and he was so afraid of bursting their bubble.

Remus pulled away, really away this time, and Sirius’s arms hung limply by his side, a Remus-shaped cavity in his chest (how pathetic, he chided himself, to be so desperate for someone less than a foot away). “I’ll be back in a second.” Their eyes met and Sirius felt himself smile despite himself.

“I’ll be here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Remus’s smiled mirrored his own. “D’you want to make yourself useful and start dinner then?” He teased, and the spell was broken. Sirius threw his head back with a bark of a laugh.

“Yeah, I’ll do that.” Remus turned to leave and Sirius reached out and pulled him back by his hand. “Just one more thing,” He insisted, and, before they could overthink it, before Harry could interrupt again, he pressed his lips to Remus’s. The kiss only lasted long enough for it to register in their brains that it was happening, really happening, and then it was over. Sirius, loathe as he was to do so, pulled away and gave Moony a toothy grin. “Now go, before our son yells the whole house down.”

Remus beamed back at him, shook his head, still smiling, and turned to go see to Harry’s every whim. Sirius watched him go, and, if his eyes slipped low enough to marvel that fine arse, then no one was any the wiser.

*******

It was Sirius’s night for a bedtime story, so he and Harry curled up on the little single bed, Harry’s two favourite books on the bedside table and the third in Sirius’s hands, and Remus sat across the end, watching Sirius with a look of devotion on his face that Sirius had been so sure he’d imagined every time he’d seen it before. It was hard to concentrate on a single train of thought under a look like that. Luckily, Harry seemed sleepy enough not to notice, having spent most of the afternoon chasing ducks in the park.

(”He really is your son, sometimes,” Remus had said over dinner, as Harry was running around the kitchen, making impressively realistic terrified-duck noises, having insisted on recreating the scene for Sirius who had missed the whole thing.)

Sirius paused in his reading to turn the page and heard a soft whuffly exhale against his chest. Harry’s eyes were closed, his tiny hands curled into tight fists, one gripping his Prongs teddy and the other Sirius’s t-shirt. He glanced up at Remus, who was looking at Harry now, with his usual fondness. He put the book with the others and gently extracted his top from Harry’s grip. He tucked him under the duvet and pressed a long kiss to his forehead. He stood back while Remus did the same and then Remus took his hand and tugged him from the room, Sirius barely managing to turn off the lights before they were outside the room and Sirius found himself crowded against the wall beside Harry’s door.

Remus was kissing him. Actually, properly, this time. He could feel Remus’s tongue against his own and his knees almost buckled out from under him. He was everywhere at once, his scent in Sirius’s nostrils, his hands in his hair, his hips against Sirius’s own as he pressed closer and closer.

Sirius pulled away, cursing his human body for needing oxygen, and then almost forgot how to breathe completely at the sight of Remus with kiss-swollen lips, pupils blown wide, clothes all rumpled where Sirius’s hands had been desperately pulling at them.

“Your bedroom is further from Harry’s,” he whispered and Remus nodded once and Sirius once again found himself being tugged along.

*******

Sirius woke up the next morning in Remus’s bedroom with Remus curled around him and a smile on his face that refused to fade. He sang as he cooked breakfast and, when Harry came in, roused by the noise and the smell of omelette, he laughed and started to sing along.

Remus entered the kitchen just as Sirius was serving up food. Thankfully, Harry didn’t seem to notice the not-so-subtle bruise that Sirius was sporting on his neck, though he did catch Remus looking at it several times, to his delight. Right before they finished breakfast, Dumbledore’s famous large black owl arrived, a thick wad of parchment in her claws. Sirius leapt up and took from her, tearing it open before he could think better of himself.

His delight at its contents must have shown on his face because Remus told Harry to go play trains in the sitting room before they tidied up.

“Something you want to share?” There was a very-un-Remus-like edge in his voice. Remus hadn’t been a fan of Dumbledore since the War; since being forced to keep a secret from Sirius had almost irreparably destroyed their friendship and had indirectly led to the deaths of James and Lily, since he’d found out that Dumbledore had had no intention of fighting for Sirius at his trial, even though he later told them that at the time he’d suspected Sirius had never been the secret keeper, and since finding out that Dumbledore’s initial plan in the wake of Halloween 1981 had been to send Harry to that detestable sister of Lily’s, a plan expressly against Lily and James’s wishes.

“He’s found two teachers willing to give you a recommendation to the Ministry.” To hell with keeping secrets, Sirius thought. He wanted Moony’s excitement with him on this, he wanted Moony to understand that he’d been serious about something, that actually he’d followed through on one of his harebrained schemes and it was coming to fruition. “Minnie and Magnolia.” Elizabeth Magnolia was the head of Arithmancy of Hogwarts and had, naturally enough, thought very highly of Remus while he was her student. “Usually you’d need the head of the subject to recommend you, but since there’s no one in the school of Defence...” Sirius trailed off, watching Remus for a reaction.

“You applied to teach on my behalf?” Remus didn’t _sound_ angry, which was a good sign.

Sirius nodded. “I’ve told Minnie that I’ll be applying once Clara’s finished with me, and Dumbledore is going to need a few years to get Hogwarts wolf-proof again, so —”

“So we’re going to be at Hogwarts with Harry?” Tears were threatening to spill down Remus’s cheeks and Sirius took a step forward, abandoning the letter to take Moony’s face in both hands.

“We can stay with him. We can keep him safe. We can be together, our family,” Sirius whispered, “No one is ever going to harm him.”

*******

“I’m going to kill him.”

“Sirius, you’re going to wear the carpet down, stop pacing.”

“How do you expect me to stop? Our son, Remus, our _son_ spent the year lying to us and investigating this Philosopher’s Stone thing, only to sneak out of bed in the dead of night and get himself attacked by Voldemort! He’s such a stupid child, why the fuck didn’t he come to us?” Suddenly, as if someone had flicked a switch, Sirius’s rage drained from his body, replaced by all of the emotions that the anger had been covering up, and he sank to his knees. Remus was beside him in an instant, holding him and running one hand through his hair.

“Why didn’t he come to us, Moony? Doesn’t he trust us? Did he think we wouldn’t help?” He felt tears choking him. “H-How are you so calm about this?”

Remus huffed a laugh into Sirius’s shoulder. “We can’t both fall apart at the same time, then where would we be? You think I could be calm about this? We worked together for a year, lived under the same roof as Quirrell,” Remus spat the name with such venom that Sirius almost recoiled, “for a year. I should have... I should have _known_ , right? What’s the point in being a fucking werewolf if I don’t have any fucking instincts to alert me to the man who was trying to kill my son?” Remus leant more heavily on Sirius. The full moon had been the night before and it hadn’t been an easy one. Sirius and Remus had returned to the castle in the morning to discover that Harry was in the hospital wing after Quirrell, the unassuming Muggle Studies teacher with a fascist psychopath glued to his head, had tried to murder him. Neither of them had slept in over twenty-four hours and they hadn’t been allowed to see Harry. Poppy always tended to Remus’s moon-related injuries in their professors’ quarters, but this morning she’d sent along an elf with the potions and a note that said she hoped Sirius’s healing spells were up to snuff and that Harry wouldn’t be receiving visitors until lunch. They were both in agony, mentally and physically (though the latter far more in Remus’s case than Sirius’s) and the waiting was driving Sirius demented.

“You should go back to bed, love,” Sirius said, trying to sound more put together than he felt. He wiped the tears off his cheeks with the back of one hand and used his position half-underneath Remus to almost carry him halfway across the room to their four-poster. Remus put up half-hearted whispered protestations but Sirius just hushed him, helping him into bed and climbing in beside him. “I know I won’t be able to sleep, so I’ll keep an eye on the time and I’ll wake you when it’s time to see him. You need to sleep for those pain potions to start to work, Moons. You know you can’t hide how hurt you are from me.”

Remus couldn’t even protest any more and he slumped into Sirius’s embrace and fell asleep almost instantly.

Sirius felt his eyes almost close a few times in the three or so hours that followed, but, every time he almost drifted off, the mental image of his Harry lying in the hospital wing alone, wondering where his dads were, woke him right back up. Remus’s rest was fitful too, there was a frown across his pretty face and he kept jerking as if he was being attacked by some dream-creature Sirius couldn’t save him from. Sirius attempted to smooth the worry lines above his brow with the occasional featherlight kiss.

Poppy’s elf returned at ten minutes past one and told them that “Young master Potter can be seeing visitors now, Professors,” before blinking away.

Sirius looked down at Remus. The nightmare seemed to have finally subsided and he was loathe to wake him. It was always difficult to wake him in the day or so following the moon since Sirius was scared of hurting him more. On any other day, Sirius would have just shaken him awake, but Moony’s shoulder had been torn rather bloodily from its socket during the detransformation last night and Sirius’s spellwork wasn’t good enough to make the pain entirely go away.

Still, Moony needed to be woken up. Sirius stuck his tongue in his ear.

A mostly-reflex-driven hand slapped Sirius across the face (not enough to even smart) and started rubbing the now-wet ear. “Padfoot, you disgusting mutt,” Remus growled. Sirius laughed and leant in to kiss his lips. “Not after your tongue’s been in my ear, I have some fucking standards.”

“You clearly don’t, you married me.”

Remus met his gaze, a smile splitting across his face. “I did, didn’t I?”

Sirius leant in again but Remus turned his head at the last second so Sirius’s lips brushed against his cheek.

“Still not happening.”

Sirius groaned and got out of bed. “We need to go down and see Harry. And you need something to eat.”

Remus nodded and followed him out of bed with a wince. There weren’t enough pain potions in the world to make the day after a full moon bearable, and it always broke Sirius’s heart to see him suffer.

They were both still dressed in the clothes they’d worn to the Shack the night before so they didn’t bother changing before heading to the Hospital Wing. Sirius wanted to run as fast as Padfoot’s legs would carry him, but he stayed beside Moony who was, impressively, almost walking at his normal pace already. Sirius felt a rush of love for his husband and couldn’t resist leaning down to plant a kiss on his temple.

“What’s that for?”

“Do I need a _reason_ to kiss the love of my life?”

Sirius loved how that term still made Remus blush, even after almost six years together. Remus took his hand and they walked the rest of the way in silence.

Madame Pomfrey looked up when they entered the room and gave them a tight smile. “He’s in your usual bed, Remus,” She said. “And only two visitors at a time, so ask those friends of his to wait outside.”

“They got here before us?”

Pomfrey at least had the decency to look embarrassed. “I let them see him at noon, I wanted to let you two get enough sleep for the potions to start working.”

Sirius thought for a second that Remus was actually going punch her in the face, but he simply exhaled and gave her a toothy smile (that still looked a little murderous). “Thank you, Poppy. In future, I would ask you to let _me_ choose between being in a bit of pain and seeing my injured son.”

Poppy looked for a second like she might argue, and, even though Sirius usually liked how protective she was over Remus, this time he simply glared at her and shook his head once. He pulled Remus to the far corner of the wing, where, sure enough, Harry was sitting up in the cot that Poppy had used to keep vacant for Remus all those years ago. Ron and Hermione were sitting on the rickety chairs on either side of the cot and the three were chatting quietly, though they fell silent the moment they spotted Sirius and Remus.

Hermione was the first to speak. “Hello, Professor Lupin and Professor Lupin.” Her voice was squeakier than normal and there were bags under her eyes — she probably hadn’t slept much the night before either.

“Hermione,” Remus said, sending a genuinely warm smile her way. “We’ve told you before, you can call us by our first names when we’re not in class.”

Ron stood up from his chair and sent an apologetic look at Sirius. “We’ll get out of your hair now, um, Pr- Sirius,” He said and all but dragged Hermione from the curtained-off area and out of sight. Sirius pulled the chair closest to them over and nudged Remus’s good shoulder and helped him into it (much to Remus’s annoyance, who, any other day, would be snapping at Sirius that he “could bloody well sit _down_ by himself, damn it”). He reluctantly left Remus’s side to sit in the other chair.

“How are you feeling, Harry?” Remus broke the silence, reaching forward to take Harry’s hand but winced and withdrew before he could make contact.

“Probably not as bad as you, dad,” Harry said. “You should be in bed. I could have come to you. I can —” At this, Harry tried to get out of bed, but he groaned and fell back against the pillows. “Ow.”

Sirius couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped him. “I can’t imagine where he gets this martyrdom, Moons, can you?” He teased, a smile growing into a grin when Remus glared at him.

“Harry,” Remus started again. “What happened last night?”

Harry looked between them and then down at his hands. “I thought Snape was going to steal the Philosopher’s Stone so Hermione, Ron, and I went to stop him. We got through all of the challenges but it wasn’t Snape at the end, it was Quirrell. He,” Harry coughed, loud and rattling, and Sirius wanted to hush him, to tell him to save his voice, but he needed to know the truth as much as Remus did. He handed Harry the glass of water from the bedside cabinet and didn’t let him continue until he’d drunk the whole thing. Once it was empty, Sirius refilled it with a silent spell, but let Harry continue talking. Remus and Sirius stayed silent until Harry got to the point in the story where he woke up in the hospital wing.

Sirius wanted to rage. Wanted to murder anyone who tried to harm his son, wanted to scream at Harry for being so irresponsible. He stayed quiet, but he was sure that Moony could read his face loud and clear.

“Why didn’t you tell us any of this?” Remus pressed.

“I told Dumbledore and he was _so_ sure that it wasn’t Snape. He told me to not mention my ‘silly imaginations’ to anyone. You, especially, papa. He said you’d just get ideas.”

Sirius added another name to his hit list.

“Has Dumbledore asked you to keep other secrets from us, fawn?”

Harry shook his head. “No, dad.”

“If he ever tells you to keep a secret from us, I want you to come right to us and tell us, ok?”

Harry’s gaze shot to Remus’s. “Why?”

“Because we’re your parents and he doesn’t get to tell you what we need to know about your life,” Sirius said sullenly.

“If Dumbledore hadn’t told you not to tell us, would you have?” Remus pressed on as if Sirius hadn’t spoken.

Harry shrugged. “Would you have believed me?”

“Of course we would have!” Sirius found himself on his feet, almost shouting.

“Would you have believed me just because you don’t like Snape?”

Sirius sat down again heavily. “Maybe,” he admitted. “But you only kept at it because you thought it was him.”

Harry nodded. “I know you hate him. You haven’t told me why, but I think you must have a good reason. I think I might hate him too. He bullies Hermione because of the way she looks and because she’s smart. I just wanted to prove that Snape wasn’t as good a person as Dumbledore says he is.”

Remus sighed. “Neither of us knows why Dumbledore seems to have a blind spot when it comes to Severus, but it’s clear that he does, even if he wasn’t the one trying to take the stone.” He sighed heavily. “And if that really was Voldemort who you saw last night, and I don’t doubt that it was, then maybe we’ll have to tell you about our history with Snape and his friends sooner than we ever wanted to.”

“Was he involved when Voldemort killed my parents?”

Remus closed his eyes and looked away.

“Yeah,” Sirius said, trying to sound calmer than he felt. “Yeah, he was. But it’s a story for another time.”

Harry nodded. “Ok.” He met Sirius’s gaze. “I won’t keep secrets from you anymore, I promise. I’m sorry I scared you both.”

Sirius smiled. “We were only scared because we love you, fawn. We don’t want anyone to hurt you, ever. We came to Hogwarts with you because we wanted to keep you safe and last night we failed.”

“You haven’t failed!”

“You’re in a hospital bed because you were attacked by one of the most evil men who ever lived.”

Harry smiled at him. “I made fun of Voldemort to his face until he made a mistake because I knew that’s what you would have done. I got Quirrell’s wand off him before he could kill me because of Dad’s classes. You both kept me safe _even though_ you weren’t there to protect me. Isn’t that the point?”

Sirius, in an instant, found himself by Harry’s bedside, pulling him into a hug and crying into his mop of hair. “Who on earth raised you to be so wonderful?” He asked, voice barely intelligible. “Couldn’t have been me, right, Moony?”

There wasn’t an answer.

Sirius and Harry pulled apart just enough to look over at Remus. He’d fallen asleep in the chair, head lolling forwards onto his chest. Harry pointed to the extra blanket at the end of his cot and Sirius draped it over Remus. They’d have to wake him in a bit, get some food into him before lunch was over.

“Papa?” Harry was whispering mostly for Remus’s benefit.

“Yes?”

“Would you tell me a story?”

Sirius smiled. “You know I can’t do the voices like dad, and they’re never as exciting.”

Harry shook his head. “I like your stories too. Will you pet my hair too?”

He pulled his chair right up beside the cot and watched Harry’s eyes flutter closed when he started running his fingers through the already messy black mop.

“Once upon a time, a fawn lived in a forest with a wolf and a big black dog...”


End file.
